


Always

by orphan_account



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Don't Judge, F/M, Fluff, I'm a hopeless romantic, Kili is adorable, Romance, Slow Build, and Fili is a brilliant brother, and Thorin is a stick-in-the-mud, and it reflects in my stories, at the end, it's Kili/Reader, the story is a bit sad, well kinda
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-15
Updated: 2014-02-15
Packaged: 2018-01-12 13:17:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,011
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1186818
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You had given up hope of love when you met him. He made you happy, he gave you love. But what is a romance without an obstacle to overcome?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Always

**Author's Note:**

> A story I wrote for a friend, and she convinced me to post it.  
> Sorry for the crappy summary.  
> Please comment or leave kudos if you liked it. :) It means a lot to me.
> 
> Warning: It might be sad. A bit. At the end. Because I like sad.

You are there early, one of the first. Only Balin is already sitting at the long council table, his brother Dwalin pacing the length of the room.

You nod at them politely and Balin gives you a kindly smile as you sink down in the chair assigned to you. You are consciously aware of the distance between your seat and the throne-like chair at the head of the table, displaying the unimportance of your task in the eyes of the king. You sigh as you shuffle your stack of parchment.

Thorin Oakenshield is not interested in the world outside the mountain- not surprising considering his past- and he stoically ignores the many pros of trading with other people, determined that Erebor is a self-sustaining nation and will stay that way, only agreeing to letting you keep your position as diplomat when the heir, Fili, insists that they can’t just cut themselves off.

You take a deep breath as the other members of the council start to arrive: Gloin, who is responsible for the finances, Oin, Bofur, the leader of the rebuilding attempt, young Ori, who smiles as he sits down opposite you. The council consists of fourteen dwarves in total, and you are surprised to see a fifteenth chair, almost identical to Fili’s, stand on the King’s left. You are about to lean forward to ask Ori about it when silence sweeps over the hall.

The King under the Mountain enters the chamber, heavy crown resplendent upon his dark head, striding with the purpose of the kings of old, face firm and serious. He is flanked by his heir and another young dwarf.

Fili, the heir, gives the assembled dwarves a smile and a nod, the gold circlet upon his head glinting with every movement. He is all polite smiles and quiet logic where Thorin is glares and prejudiced anger, wise ruler though he is.

The three dwarves sit down at the head of the table, and you turn your attention to the unfamiliar dwarf to Thorin’s left. He has the familiar Durìn hair and jawline, but his face is more open, smiling, friendly. More like Fili’s than Thorin’s. Although you have never met him before, you immediately recognize him: Kili, the younger heir of Durìn, Fili’s brother and Thorin’s nephew. He is more removed from society than his brother and uncle, being in charge of the hunters and scouters and operating outside the mountain more than within its depths. When he returns late at night, he mostly vanishes into the chambers he shares with his brother to disappear at sunrise the next morn.  

Thorin opens the meeting by asking Balin to give his report. The King under the Mountain never was one for long introductions. You settle down to listen, first to Balin, then Dwalin and all the other council dwarves. You are the second to last, only Ori after you to do a short résumé of the meeting.

You find yourself gazing at Kili most of the time, observing every detail. How his brows scrunch in concentration, how he worries his lip when trying to make a decision, the way he runs a hand through his unruly brown hair. His hairdo is very simple and decidedly messy for a prince, held back by a clasp at the back as well as a silver circlet. His beard, though full, is short. It is probably out of practical reasons, but you’d still like to ask him why he keeps it like that. It isn’t quite what is expected from a descendant of the royal line.

Thorin is quite obviously trying to get Kili to participate, and the youngest prince is fixated on not letting his uncle down. He is a good listener, recalls most of the details from the reports, but you can clearly tell that he usually lets his mind wander and is having difficulty concentrating for a change. There’s a reason why he spends most of his days outside. Fili keeps shooting his brother half-concerned, half-amused glances, as if he doesn’t know if to protect him or burst out laughing at how obviously out-of-place he is.

You have to force your attention away from the young prince, trying to concentrate on the meeting. It isn’t easy. You keep getting distracted by Kili’s curious chocolate eyes, his soft, light voice whenever he brings forward an idea. Finally it’s your turn and you clear your throat, shuffling your papers, calling your mind to order, away from the prince.

“The men of Dale have agreed to the trade contract, and signed it. But I need more freedom as a diplomat. We must set up peace treaties, more trade agreements. We are a fledgling state, and without help from the outside, we will never be able to rise to our former glory. We cannot cower in our mountain forever. The kings of old did not shy away from the outside world and neither should we. We need Mirkwood, we need Dale. The Iron Hills are not enough. Say an enemy rose and decided to take the mountain. We would be as good as defenceless. We have not given Mirkwood nor Dale reason to love us. We need to bind them to us so we can keep and, if Mahal is good, extend our power. We cannot have another war, not a battle, not a skirmish. It would be our death. Thorin, son of Thrain, son of Thror, King under the Mountain, I implore you: We need peace. We need Mirkwood. We need Dale. We _need_ the outside world.”

You end, unsure if you have driven the point home, unsure if you have said the correct thing. But Balin is smiling and nodding, and Fili is looking at you over interlaced fingers, a habit of his when he is thinking hard. Both Thorin and Dwalin are glaring at you darkly, but the rest of the council is nodding thoughtfully, some almost enthusiastically. You glance up at Kili. He is smiling gently, curiosity clear in his eyes. You feel a warm rush and immediately feel a lot surer about yourself and what you have just said.

“I say that she speaks the truth.” Balin’s voice is wheezy but still strong. He was already old when Erebor was retaken, thirty-some years ago. Now he is the oldest dwarf in the mountain. The children love his tales and Thorin takes his advice very seriously. Him taking your side so quickly is surely a good sign. “We need support, Thorin, and the men of Dale are more than eager to have us as allies. The elves might prove trickier, but I am sure this clever young dwarrowdam can sway them.” You blush slightly at the unexpected compliment and look down at your papers.

Fili lays his hands palms down on the table and clears his throat. “I agree. Our population is too small, too fragile for us to risk a battle. We must make friends of the outside world or we will never be safe.”

Thorin looks even grimmer than usual as he answers. “No. My grandfather spent years honing the relationship between Dale, Mirkwood and Erebor. And when the time of danger came, when Smaug arrived, what help came from the men?”  
“Ye can hardly blame ‘em, their bloody city was on fire!” Bofur splutters, forgetting his manners for a moment.

“And the elves? They were standing there, right there, they _saw us burn_ and they did _nothing._ ” Thorin snarls. “No. I will not go to them for help. We will survive and flourish without help from the outside.”

You press your lips together. You know of Thorin’s history with the elves, you know of the dwarves history with the elves, yet you can’t help but think that peace is the only possibility.

“Uncle, think about it. The lady is right, we need as much support as we can get. And the elves have tremendous power.” Kili speaks up, and your heart leaps. You ball your hands to fists, angry at yourself for your reaction. He is only one dwarf in many, and you do not even know him yet.

“Thranduil will want some of the treasure, he told me thirty-some years ago.” Thorin says darkly in reply. “And when we need him, he will again abandon us to our fate. No good has ever come from dealing with elves.”

“You’re wrong.” Kili says quietly. “The elves are creatures like us, they are of flesh and blood, they feel, they laugh, they fight. Some of them are even good creatures.” You look down when you realize who he is speaking of. You have, of course, heard the stories, that prince Kili fell in love with one of the elves from the woodland realm, and that she saved his life, but you had never particularly paid heed to them.

“If he wants treasure, then give it to him.” Balin argues. “Peace is more precious than all the jewels of the world.” Thorin grits his teeth darkly. “Fine. All in favor?” Easily three quarters of the hands go up, only Thorin, Dwalin and Gloin stoically refuse to cast their vote in favor.

“Fine.” Thorin’s glare, if possible, darkens even more. “Mylady, what ideas have you for peace agreements?”

You look up and catch Kili grinning brightly at you. You return his smile and clear your throat again, pulling out a roll of parchment you never dreamed you would need.

 

Several weeks later, you return from Dale after an exhaustingly long time of conferences and meetings and stubborn officials. Though the last thing you want is to see yet _more_ royalty, you make your way to the throne room as soon as you have changed. If you tell Thorin the good news now, you will have an entire week without anything even resembling politics, and you are rather desperate for that now.

You stop before the enormous doors leading to the throne room and take a deep breath, nerves and displeasure vying for your attention. Thorin has always made you feel a bit apprehensive, what with his piercing stare and his rumbling voice.

You try to gather yourself as the doors swing slowly open, pull yourself up to your full height. You stride into the room, making your way past pillars and tapestries towards the throne at the end of the room. The King Under the Mountain is only a shadowy figure silhouetted against the light from the arkenstone. You bow respectfully and glance to the right side of his throne. Fili stands there, and you can see his encouraging smile. You are only a bit younger than the heir, and while you are not friends (indeed, you have never spoken to each other outside of the regular council meetings) he seems to like you well enough. His warm smile always gives you courage where the cold stare of his uncle makes you nervous. It is strange how different the two of them are.

Suddenly you notice another figure to the left side of the throne and you scrunch your eyes to make out his face against the light radiated by the kings jewel. Your heart leaps when you recognize him and a warm feeling spreads out from your heart to every other part of your body. Kili is grinning brightly at you, eyes shining, hair as messy as ever.

You give your report in what you hope is a calm and collected voice, eyes never leaving Kili’s delighted face. His expression does not change in the slightest when you explain about the success of a peace contract with Dale, and you feel light-headed at the thought that his expression is directed solely at you, that complete joy and love glowing in his eyes.

You end your report and bow again, giving the two heirs a smile of your own as you straighten up. Thorin leans forward , face no longer in shadow as he gives you a long, approving stare. “You have done well.” He says finally. “Better than I expected. We will start to draw up a contract with Mirkwood next week. If all goes well, you shall depart for the elves by the next moon.”

“Very well, your majesty.” You answer respectfully, not missing the fact that he expects to need more than three weeks for a contract with Mirkwood. He nods curtly. “You are excused.” You bow again, and turn around, barely able to keep from leaping with joy. A week without any work to do. It’s a dream come true. You vaguely hear Fili excusing himself as well, and feel your heart drop when you realize that Kili is still standing next to his uncle, making no move to follow you.

Fili’s footsteps echo through the hall, calm and level, for a prince never runs after anybody. You keep your pace until the doors and then slow down slightly, hoping you aren’t mistaken in thinking that the heir wants to speak to you. You aren’t.

“Mylady?” he calls softly, retaining an imperious tone in his voice that reminds you of Thorin. “Mylord prince?” You stop and turn and wait for him to catch up. He smiles, dimpling in that charming way of his. “Please call me Fili.”

“I would hardly be comfortable with that, mylord prince.”

“Well, if all goes as planned, then soon…” Fili realizes what he is saying and stops talking. You frown, but you daren’t urge him to say more. There is an uncomfortable silence in which you both start walking, then Fili clears his throat. “You have truly done well, mylady. My uncle has… difficulties expressing his gratitude properly, but he is pleased with how you have done your work.”

“Oh.” You don’t quite know what to say. You are consciously aware that here, walking beside you is the future King Under the Mountain. “I… thank you.”

“My brother, Kili…” Your heart stops just to resume beating at a pace you hadn’t thought possible. “Yes?” You say, trying hard not to sound too excited. “He has often commented how intelligent you are. That you are wasted in the position you are in.”

“I enjoy my work. It will bring peace to future generations.”

“Do you have children you worry about, mylady?”

“No, mylord prince. I… live alone.” You wonder briefly how you came to tell the crown-prince this, but your confusion is drowned out by some crazy hope that somehow Kili will learn this through his brother.

“Ah.” Fili nods. “Well, mylady, how are you going to spend this week of free time?”

You shrug, almost questioning his interest, but stopping yourself before you can. “Sleeping. Eating. Going for long, long walks. Reading.”

Fili nods, biting his lip, and you notice briefly how Kili does the exact same thing. “Well, mylady, it was a pleasure speaking to you. I wish you a wonderful week of relaxing. If you will take my advice, my little brother knows the most beautiful walks you can wish for.”

“Are you trying your hand at being a matchmaker, mylord prince?” You ask teasingly, unable to stop yourself. He doesn’t seem to mind. “And what if I was?” he asks, his dimples visible even through his beard.

“I would tell you that your efforts are not at all wasted.”

“I will inform my brother.”

And he leaves you shaking your head and wondering how on earth that had happened.

 

Apparently he really does tell Kili, for the next day, there is a knock at the door of your chambers, and the younger prince is standing outside the door, smiling widely.

“Mylady?” he gives a small bow in greeting. He isn’t wearing the fine robes you have always seen him in, but a long, rather shabby leather coat and a faded blue tunic. Across his back he has slung a bow and a quiver, along with a dwarvish sword. Only the thin silver circlet around his head is familiar.

“Prince Kili.” You feel a warm rush of joy at the thought that that broad, beautiful smile is directed only at you. You have never wasted much thought on the topic of love, dismissing it easily, telling yourself that it would all happen when the time was right.

And apparently now the time is right, and your heart is beating fast because he’s so perfect and so sweet and carefree, and yet there is a seriousness about him as well that also rests in his brother’s features.

He fiddles anxiously with his gloves, yet he looks you in the eye when he tentatively begins to speak. “My brother said that you were hoping to go for a walk during your free week…”

 Oh, but hopefully Fili had told the youngest Durìn so much more than that...

“And I just wandered if you’d mind accompanying me. I’m going out in the forest, checking the borders, and then I’ll check up on the guards in the watchtower…”

“You wait right here.” You give him a wide smile before rushing back inside your rather small chambers, grabbing your coat, your knives, your small throwing axes.

“It’ll be a long walk.” Kili warns you from the doorway. “Good.” You reply, tightening your belt.

“The guards in the watchtower will be boring.” The prince warns you further. “Don’t care!” You call to him, tucking your knives into your belt.

“It might be dangerous.” He gives you one last warning. You appear in front of him, tucking your throwing axes into your boots. “I’m not a damsel, my prince.”

“If that’s so…” he offers you his arm and you accept gladly, letting the prince lead you through the halls of Erebor. You ignore the stares directed your way, instead concentrating your entire being on Kili next to you. The two of you keep up a continuous chatter, no more than friendly banter, getting to know each other, warming up a bit.

“You like walks?” Kili asks you eagerly. “Nature in general.” You reply. “I enjoy the outside world, a bit more than I should, as a dwarf.”

“So do I.” Kili gives you his dazzling grin. “They say my ma got overly curious with an elf.”  
You chuckle. “What does your ma say about that?”

Kili screwed his face up into a fierce scowl and imitated his mother. “Well, he was better at it than you pathetic lot!”

You look at him in surprise and break out into a fit of giggles. “Sweet Mahal! I wish I could have seen his majesty’s face!”

“It was quite a sight to behold.” Kili replies, reverting back to his former voice.

There’s only a short pause as you visualize it before the conversation resumes again.

“For the cheese, I don’t think you look much like an elf.” You decide.

“You should have seen me before my beard came in.” he replies.

“Nah, I’ve seen elves in Mirkwood. They look nothing near as handsome as you.”

He laughs and rubs a hand up your arm in a gesture of thanks. “You’ve been to Mirkwood?” he asks. You nod. “Diplomatic business. Met the elves. Even… even Tauriel.”

“Oh.” He pauses shortly, and the first awkward silence that day fills the air. Then he looks up at you, shakes off his grim expression and flashes you a smile instead. “I remember the days where it was still all gloomy and dark and dangerous and…” he pulls his face into a mock-serious expression and does his best Thorin-imitation. “’Don’t stray off the path.’”

You chuckle. “And, did you? Stray off the path?”

He gives an impish smile. “Naturally.”

 

The guards at the gate let Kili out without question, though they glare at you a little strangely. They usually control everybody going in and out, but the princes face is obviously familiar to them. Once outside, Kili leads you to the stable.

“I fear we will have to clean and saddle them ourselves, mylady.” He apologizes. “To be honest I… didn’t expect you to really join me.” He looks to the floor, scuffing his boots against the rock nervously. You give a fond, exasperated smile. “Kili.” You step forward, and, after a moment’s hesitation, put your hand on his cheek and make him look at you. Looking firmly into those beautiful chocolate eyes, you say in a low voice: “Don’t ever doubt me again.”

He lets a soft smile light up his face and caresses your face. “I won’t.” He promises.

You had expected to ride out all respectable like, trotting through the woods slowly and maybe exchanging some romantic words, but in the end, the two of you gallop around the mountain whooping and racing each other, probably scaring away every enemy within a mile’s radius.

It is glorious and wonderful and silly and _fun_ , and you enjoy every second of it. Finally Kili declares that the patrol is finished, and, slowing your pace, the two of you lead your exhausted ponies to the beginning of the path steadily winding its way up the craggy slopes of the mountain.

Now that you are going at a slower pace, ponies picking their way steadily past rocks and trees, there is time to talk again. Kili has a healthy sense of humor and it’s easy to talk to him. You feel as if you’ve known him for years, yet this is the first time the two of you have actually talked. You feel an overwhelming rush of joy whenever he gives you yet another of his dazzling, puppy-eyed grins because he’s so light and wonderful and _perfect_ and you don’t care that you hardly know him, you are cherishing the moment, this moment of happiness that none can take away from you.

You ride through the sparse forests on the slopes of Erebor those have started to recuperate since Smaug’s attack, Kili entertaining you with tales of Ered Luin and asking you to speak of your own childhood in the Iron Hills. Soon the trees grow even smaller and more crippled.

“See that tower?” Kili asks you, pointing. It’s a small structure of solid granite. You nod. “We’ll have to leave the horses there. It’s too steep for them. The guard tower is right there.” He points at a significantly larger tower some distance above the huge gate. A small path, a thin line of silver amid dark grey and black, leads up to it. Kili looks at you seriously. “You up for it?”

You give a chuckle. “I’m up to it.” You confirm. “More than up for it.”

His eyes gleam at your answer. “Race you to stables!” he declares, already driving his horse into a gallop. You follow after him, shouting at him to complain about jokingly about unfair play. About three quarters of the way there, you start drawing alongside Kili. “Don’t you dare let me win!” You yell at his back, and he laughs loudly before spurring his horse on to draw ahead of you once again.

He wins very closely, and you give him a scowl upon arrival. “You rode slower after all, I could tell.”

He leans over and cups a gloved hand over yours, stopping with his face inches from yours. “And what if I did?”

“I’d ask you to stop. I have to reach my goals on my own.”

“No you don’t. That’s your pride speaking.”

You smile despite yourself. “All right, maybe you can help a _little.”_ He gives you the legendary Kili puppy-eyes the girls in the markets giggle over. “All right, you can help. But,” you raise a warning finger. “Setting the bar lower is not helping!”

His eyes crinkle gently around the corners as he smiles at you. “And what would help?” he asks in a low, soft voice that sends shivers racing down your spine.

“Helping me improve my riding, for example.” Your voice goes lower automatically at his proximity.  
“I would have thought you do a lot of riding, mylady.”

“Only slow. I don’t need to hone my skills that much. And I don’t do _that_ much riding, my prince. Your uncle is slow to let me on missions outside the mountain.”

Kili tightens his grip on your hand and laughs softly. “Yes. I’m sorry for my uncle being such a stiff, suspicious stick-in-the-mud.”

Something in your mind rebels against you replying to anything, insisting that talking about the king like that is high treason, but you remind yourself that this is the king’s closest family saying those things, he means it… in a familiar, friendly way. So you give a soft laugh instead, but some of your worries must have reflected in your eyes, because Kili is gazing at you with a concerned look upon his soft features.  
“What’s wrong?” he asks. “Did I… say something wrong? I’m sorry.”

You shake your head, giggling involuntarily. “Don’t worry about it, Kili. It’s just… I’m not used to hearing the king being talked about in such familiar terms.”

Relief floods his face. “Well, you should get used to it. I’m planning to keep you around for a long, long time.”

“I’m glad for that.” You reply almost without thinking, and although the air in which you both said it is light, joking, bantering, you both know the meaning of the words is anything other than that. On an instinct, you lean towards the dark-haired dwarf at your side, your foreheads meeting as you both smile gently at the other, so overwhelmed with the unspoken promises you just made to each other.

He breaks away slightly, although both of you feel like that moment could, should go on forever. He directs his attention to your hands, trying to return to your previous topic. “You need to hold your hands differently, don’t make fists, like this, see?” His voice is softer than before, slightly awestruck, and his fingers are gentle as they softly push your thumb in the right position. You lean forward to see what he is doing, just in the moment that he turns his head in your direction to check that you understood everything, and your lips brush briefly. You draw back, blushing, and he lets go of your hands as if burned.

The absurdity of it all catches up so suddenly with you that you let out an undignified snort before collapsing into a fit of giggles. He laughs along with you, both brushing off the accidental kiss easily. It had been… nice, now that you think about it, but you just aren’t ready to think about something like that with him yet.

The dwarf taking your horses glances at you strangely, both of you still giggling like young dwarflings as you dismount. Kili tries to strike up a commanding pose, biting back a laugh. “Anything to report?”

The dwarf shakes his head, ogling at the pair of you as if you’ve sprung out of a crack in the earth. Kili nods curtly, and, politely taking your arm, leads you to the beginning of the path up towards the guard tower. As soon as you are around the bend both of you collapse to the ground clutching your sides. It goes on like that for a long time, until both of you are only wheezing and giggling gently. You point at Kili, panting.  
“The way you kept it together back there… well, after recovering. Amazing.”

“After recovering.” Kili replies, wheezing. “Before that I was as bad as you.” He flips onto his back and reaches out to gently take a strand of your hair between your fingers. You turn onto your back as well, cupping your hand over his.

“We should go.” You murmur. Kili nods. “We should.” He mumbles, but makes no move to stand.

“Kili…” You say carefully. “I think it’s getting late.”

“Yes.” He sighs, but his only movement is to grip your hand in his. “It is, isn’t it.”

You yawn and stretch lazily. “You always like this?”

He groans deeply, but he stands up and dusts off his clothes before offering you a hand and a brilliant smile. You let yourself be hauled upright and linger a bit longer than necessary before pulling back. He turns and walks ahead of you, letting you catch up to walk next to him. The two of you walk in comfortable silence for a long while.

You watch the sky, the path ahead, your two pairs of booted feet alongside each other, his calm profile, his long-fingered, beautiful hands. You’re almost halfway up before you tentatively reach out and brush his fingers with yours. He looks up at you, surprised at the touch and you give him a reassuring smile as you interlace your fingers with his. A soft, tender amazement steals over his features as he presses your hand gently. No words are needed as you walk up and as he apologetically pulls his hand away before you come too close to the fortress and kisses your fingers tenderly, you understand that move too. _Not yet._ Is what every touch betrays. _Not yet. But soon._

 

He spends only a brief time in the fortress before the two of you make your way down again. This time, the two of you keep up a continuous, cheerful chatter right until you reach the gates of the Lonely Mountain. He accompanies you to your rooms and turns to you, his expression tender and fierce and protective and gentle all at once. You know at the same time that this is a goodbye, and that it is not the last one. You will meet again. The silver threads binding your hearts, your very souls, is much too strong for anything different.

“I have learned so much about you in a single day.” He says softly, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “And all I know leaves me wanting to know more. You are brave and you are beautiful, you are funny, witty, clever, gentle, determined, proud. I have never met someone like you. You leave me overwhelmed and deeply happy and I want to know everything. I want to know what makes you laugh and what makes you cry, what sends boiling anger rushing through your veins and when you want to be left alone. I want to be the shoulder you cry on, the person you laugh with, the one who can calm your rage and the one willing to die for you.”                  

You smile, clasping his hands in yours. “I want to know everything about you as well, Kili. I think I am well and truly in love.” You hesitate. “Is that weird? We’ve known each other for a day.”

“It’s not weird.” Kili assures you, rubbing circles onto your hand. “Not if we take it slow now, careful. Are you ready to do that? To do it… officially. Slowly. Gently. I don’t want to rush things, not with you. You’re too precious for that. You deserve more than that.”

You stare down at your intertwined hands. “I’m ready to do it. We have about a moon until I leave for Mirkwood. We will be apart for two weeks then. If we… If we manage ‘til then, I… I’m ready to try more.” Your heart is rabbiting in your chest, and you wonder if it’s normal, to feel so scared, so overwhelmed, and so hopeful and full at the same time.

“We’ll manage.” Kili assures you. “We’ll do much more than manage.”

You smile at him. “I’d given up hope, you know. For love, that is. Until I met you.”

“I won’t betray you.” Kili promises. You stand on your tiptoes and chastely brush your lips against his, and even that slight contact electrifies your whole body. “I know.” You murmur, and kiss him again before pulling away and slipping inside your rooms.

“I trust we shall meet again, my prince.”

He seems hesitant to leave you, cupping your jaw. “Yes.” He agrees. “Yours. Your prince.” You lean into his touch. “My love.” You whisper, and his breath hitches at the name.  
“Good night.” You murmur. “Good night.” He replies, and you close the door carefully before opening it again to watch him walking down the hall, coat swinging around his ankles, a distinctly dreamy air in his gait.

 

You do meet again, quite often in fact. Kili never tires of seeing you, talking to you, walking with you. You are the talk of the marketplace, the romance of the year. Everybody seems to be delighted by the two of you, judging by their coos and whispers when you come by.

Kili always thinks of something new somehow, everything with him is exciting and magical. You go on several different walks outside the mountain, he shows you the most beautiful places inside Erebor, even a casual trip to the market seems like a scene from a fairytale. You don’t think you’ve ever laughed as much as when you’re with Kili.

Now and then, Fili tags along, and you’re surprised to find that you don’t mind at all. The older Durin has a sense of humor and fun to rival his brothers, he’s just as loose and easygoing and doesn’t even seem to notice when the two of you have a bit of a romantic moment in his presence.

Setting up the peace agreement with Mirkwood is more difficult than you thought it would be. Every sentence, every word has to be discussed, argued over and rephrased. Sometimes you just feel like throwing down your scroll and marching from the chamber, but Kili’s sympathetic smile always holds you back, as well as the fact that such behavior would lose you your job.

 

Finally, the peace contract is completed, and on a fine autumn morning, you depart for Mirkwood. Kili meets you at the gates with a small smile and a gift. Hooking his arm through yours, he leads you to your horse. You turn to him with a smile.

“Almost there.” You whisper softly. Kili nods. “Almost there. When you come back…”

You nod. “When I come back. We’ll make it official. Tell your uncle. Officially start courting each other.”

Kili smiles. “It… It’ll be lovely. Everybody knows already, the only reason why I can’t sweep you off your feet and kiss you right here is because it isn’t the proper etiquette. I’m not ashamed of you, truly, I’m not. I could never be. I want the whole world to see, and I don’t care what anyone says…”

He entwines your fingers with his gently. “You’re the only one who counts.”  
“And Fili.” You smile, squeezing his hands with a sad smile. He bows his head. “And Fili.” He admits. You give a small chuckle and he takes out a carefully wrapped present.

“I… I made this for you.” He says shyly. “Kind of like… a… a talisman.”

You open it, the soft blue and silver cloth falls away to reveal a carefully crafted charm with the insignia of the Durin Family.

“Oh, Kili.” You look at it, quite awestruck. “I… Am I even allowed to wear it?”

He cups your jaw. “You’re practically family. I want you to wear it. Please. Even if it means being related to Thorin-rock-face-Oakenshield.”

You clench your fist around the charm, determined never to let it go. “I hardly believe this is the proper etiquette.” You whisper, leaning into his hand, looking him into the eyes, sinking into those chocolate depths.

Kili shakes his head with a smile and leans forward. “What do I care for etiquette?” he murmurs before closing the last distance between you and kissing you on the lips.

 

 _The negotiations went well,_ you think as you throw your bag in the corner and collapse on your bed, exhausted. _Mirkwood’s on our side, and we don’t have to suffer from that alliance._

There is a knock at the door and you moan loudly, unwilling to get up. The door opens, and you frown. Nobody you know would come charging in on you like that.

Suddenly, Kili’s tenderly smiling face appears above you. You moan.

“Tired?” Kili asks, tracing a strand of your hair with a sleek finger. You give a muffled groan and hit him gently with a pillow. Kili grins. “You always like this?” he asks cheerily, imitating your words from so long ago.

You snort with laughter and hide your face under a pillow. “Yeeees.” You moan into the cloth.

You can tell from his voice that he has suddenly stopped smiling. “D’you still have the necklace?”

You reach out to show it to him, hanging off your neck, tucked underneath you dress. “Never took it off.” You say softly, sitting up, fixating him with what you hope is a warm, loving gaze.

“Thank you.” He whispers before leaning forward and kissing you on the forehead. He draws away and touches his temple to yours. “Do you want me to show you a new and very beautiful place?” he asks seriously. You nod. “Always… _ghivashel.”_

The name seems to echo in the small room. _Ghivashel_. Treasure of all Treasures.

 

 

“I’m going to tell him.” Kili decides.

“Good.” You reply.

“No, I’m for real this time.” The young prince insists. “You sure?” You roll so that you’re looming over him. “You didn’t have the beard to tell Thorin last time. Or the time before.”

“I KNOW!” Kili looks up at you pleadingly. “You know the way he looks at you? The murder-stare? I’m just like, ‘Hey uncle, can I tell you some… oh, okay, never mind.’”

You snort. “Coward” you tease gently, giving him a hug. “I am NOT!” Kili insists, returning the hug.

“I _am_ going to tell him this time.” He mumbles into your shoulder. You smile. “Good on you.”

 

“Kili, I’m really not sure about this…” you reach up and touch the blindfold, but Kili pulls your hands away gently. “Why, don’t you trust me?” he asks, leading your hands to his mouth and kissing them gently.

“I trust you.” You insist. “Just not as in ‘blindfold-me-and-lead-me-somewhere’ trust.” You hear Kili chuckle softly. “If you can’t trust me with this, how are you going to trust me with anything else?” he asks.

“Fili said that you once blindfolded him, led him into the forest, told him to wait there and then just ran away.” You accuse the young dwarf.

“Oh, come on, that was years ago!” Kili protests, taking your hands and pulling you towards…. Where, actually?

“Kili….” You trail off and instead concentrate on setting one foot in front of the other. You are wearing a heavy ceremonial dress from a formal dinner celebrating the newly established peace. You can just imagine how Kili must be pouting now, dark eyebrows drawn together above concerned eyes.

“Kili, seriously, this dress…” you stop talking abruptly as you trip over your dress. You hear Kili giggle and pull one hand free, to swat him on the shoulder before pulling your dress above your ankles.

“Come on!” Kili encourages, pulling you with more force. You break into a light jog, glad for the fact that you’re still wearing flat soles underneath the dress. You don’t know how long you run before Kili slows. “There’s steps here.” He warns. “They’re not steep though.”

“You could just take off the blindfold.” You throw in as he helps you climb the stone stairs. “No.” he replies. “I couldn’t.” he tweaks the knot of the blindfold gently. “It’s a surprise.” His voice is mischievous and tender at the same time, and you shake your head with a smile. “You sound like a small boy.”

“You sound like you don’t mind.” Kili retaliates swiftly. “No.” You drop your skirt and reach out to draw him down for a kiss. “Not at all.”

He prolongs the kiss for a moment before pulling away. “Come, milady.” He tugs gently. “We’re almost there.”

You gingerly walk up the last few steps, then follow as he pulls you down another flat stretch of corridor. You hear him draw back a heavy curtain and scrunch your eyes slightly as bright daylight shimmers through your blindfold. Suddenly, Kili is behind you, clever fingers opening the knot at the back of your head, then stroking down your neck as the cloth falls from your eyes.

You gasp. You are in large, high room of light bluish rock. A stone bench runs around the perimeter of the room, except for the wall opposite, where large niches are hewn into the beautiful rock. The niches are also the source of light, large windows reaching up to the sky, letting golden sunlight flood the room. You walk forward in a trance and lean on the balustrade of the balcony. Underneath you, the valley of Dale stretches to the horizon, beautiful and lush. Far in the distance the misty mountains can be seen, fluffy white clouds topping the blue peaks. Directly underneath you, on a terrace of rock and earth, a wide meadow of yellow flowers sways gently in the breeze.

You give a breathless laugh and turn to see Kili standing in the middle of the room, hands crossed behind his back, an adoring smile on his face. You rush forward, narrowly avoid tripping over your dress and cup his face in your hand before giving him a long, lingering kiss.

“Thank you.” You whisper against his mouth as you pull away slightly. “It… it’s so beautiful.”

“I know.” Kili kisses you again, warm shudders racing down your spine as he cups your jaw to pull you closer, his other hand drawing warm circles on your hip. “I wanted it to be perfect.”

“Perfect for what?” You have a certain suspicion, but you want to hear him say it, want him to tell you how much he loves you.

“Milady.” He draws away, keeping a gentle hold on your hands, tracing random patterns on your wrists with his fingers. “May I… Will you allow me to braid your hair, so all can see our trust, our love and devotion?”

You give off a small gasp that ends in a strange chuckle. Braiding is a long tradition for dwarrows, and only dwarves very close to your heart may braid your hair. It is a privilege only for lovers and family. To ask one to braid your hair is considered the ultimate sign of love, and most couples place a traditional courting braid in each other’s hair, with a bead the man fashioned at the end.

“Kili… my prince… I would be honoured.”

Kili’s smile is all you could have wished for as he leads you to one of the niches and settles you on the bench so you face out the window, the autumn sunlight warming your face. He situates himself behind you, taking care not to invade your privacy more than he has to. You respond to this by pushing back so you are as close to him as possible without impairing his movements. He wraps you up in a warm hug and leans his chin on your shoulder.

“Are you sure you want to do this?” he asks carefully. “You reach back to rub up and down his side comfortingly. “I am.” You confirm. Kili shifts and you can immediately tell that he is about to say the formal words of courting. He delivers them in a warm tender voice, making the dry, pompous words, sound like a poem.

“If this is truly your free will, as not imposed by me nor any other of my line or yours, then I shall now braid in your hair the beads I have crafted of my own hand and with my own love. As of this day, it shall be known that you and I are of one heart and one soul and that no force less than that of Mahal, our maker, shall ever again separate us. I pledge to you my heart, my mind and my soul and swear to protect you from all ill that shall befall you, until the day my ancestors take me in among their ranks.”

“It is my free will, and I gladly accept the beads of your devotion. As of this day, it shall be known that you and I are of one heart and one soul and that no force less than that of Mahal, our maker, shall ever again separate us. I pledge to you my heart, my mind and my soul and swear to honor you always and give you all the love and devotion I am capable of, until the day my ancestors take me in among their ranks.” You reply, interlacing his fingers with yours as an enormously silly smile spreads across your face. “I love you, Kili.”

“And I you.” His other hand brushes your hair away from your neck so he can kiss you there, his lips tracing down to your shoulder.

You hum softly, arching into the soft contact. “Kili.” You chastise with no real heart behind your words. “You were going to braid my hair, remember?”

Kili presses one final kiss to your clavicle and draws back. “Very well.” His voice is lower than usual, a soft rumble that reminds you a bit of Thorin.

Your hair is already drawn back in a loose braid, with two small curls framing your face. Instead of undoing the braid, Kili carefully plucks some strands loose from the right side of your temple, giving you a chaste kiss on the cheek as he does so.

“Okay?” he asks. You nod, smiling at how protective he is. “Can I see the beads?” you ask. His hands leave your hair to reach into a small bag at his belt. He draws out several beads of different sizes and pours them into your hand, letting you inspect them while he carefully begins to braid your hair back.

You look at the beads in tender amazement. That Kili could craft something so delicate and beautiful… “Are you sure you made these by yourself?” you ask, awe in your voice.

“Yes. I wouldn’t want anything less for my love.” Kili replies, intent on your hair. His nimble fingers scratch your scalp gently sometimes, and you find yourself enjoying his touch, the slightest breath of his fingers on your head, your hair.

“The light ones are for you.” Kili’s soft murmur breaks you out of your reverie. You concentrate on the jewelry in your hand, properly inspecting the beads. There are two different kinds, you now notice. Some are a light silver, almost white, shimmering like the moon herself, with light, blue sapphires embedded in them, the color of a perfect autumn sky, bright, crisp, clear.

The others are darker silver, more like soft shadows, beautiful and mysterious. The jewels are darker as well, a deep blue, like the colours of Durìn, midnight and comforting warmth.

“They’re perfect.” You whisper as Kili completes the first braid, kissing the top of your head as he reaches forward to take one of your beads from your palm.  He uses the bead to secure the plait before tucking it into your larger braid and moving to repeat the process on the other side.

You rest your hand on his thigh, drawing small nonsense patterns, words and shapes on the warm flesh. His thighs are thin but strong, tendons and muscles strung out along solid bone.

He finishes the other braid quickly, nimble fingers weaving in a second bead before leaning forward to gently kiss every part of you he can reach. You smile, turning around to return his attentions.

“Thank you.” You whisper as the two of you separate, pressing a last kiss to his forehead before standing up. “My turn.” You smile, seating yourself behind him and handing him the beads. You elect to simply braid the hair that is pulled back from the front of his face, as well as the loose strands before his ears. You enjoy it, the feel of his soft, silky hair on your fingers, of his thin hips between your legs, his back pulled up against your chest as you do the braids in front. He starts humming a song, his voice soft and low.

“What’s that song?” you ask, whispering lest you ruin that magical something in the very air.

Instead of an answer, Kili begins singing quietly, and you concentrate your whole being only on him and here and now, because this exceeds even your wildest dreams.

Kili has a fine singing voice, still light with youth, but with a seriousness he rarely shows. You want to melt into it, want to stay here for all eternity, with his arms around you and his voice in your ear.

 

As he finishes the song, you slap his shoulder gently to make him stand. “Done.” You announce as he holds out his hand to help you up. The two of you stand facing each other, smiles on both your faces as you take in the sight of the courtship beads in the others hair. It is a sign, a sign of belonging together, a sign of your devotion to each other, and both of you treasure it, knowing it for all it is.

Kili draws you into his arms, eyes bright with unshed tears, and you smile tearfully into his embrace. “I love you.” He declares.

“Me too.” You murmur, not trusting yourself to speak any louder.

“I’ve got something else for you.” He announces. You laugh, a small chuckle ending in a happy sniffle.

“Oh, please, not now, you’ll make me cry, I swear.”

“Yes now.” Kili remains adamant. “I don’t mind if you cry. I’m always here for you, remember? And besides, I feel like crying a bit as well.”

He reaches back into the small pouch at his belt and draws out a tiny box. Opening it, he fumbles for a moment before bringing out a ring, silver, in the shape of a flower with the same jewels adorning it those are now in your hair.

You gasp, hands flying to your mouth, tears spilling over even as you laugh breathlessly. “Oh, Kili.” Is all you manage to bring out, repeating his name over and over again. “Oh Mahal, Kili, Kili, Kili. This is… it’s beautiful…  I can’t accept it, not yet.”

“If not now, then when?” Kili clasps your hand. “We’ve gone slowly, we’ve got to know each other, we’ve been apart. We’ve _survived._ Our relationship has survived. Now, just for now, I want to be rash and impulsive and passionate, because you deserve that too, just as much as you deserve a slow, romantic build-up.”

You smile, unable to control yourself, and you’re sure it’s the most sappy, tear-stained, ugly smile ever, but Kili looks at you as if you are the most beautiful thing he has ever seen, and that’s enough for you.

“You’ve told Thorin?” You know he has, he must have, but you want to hear it, want to hear him say that it’s official, it’s really going to happen, you’re going to have a happy end.

“I’ve told him.” Kili says carefully, but something is missing, something is wrong, you can feel it.

“Kili?” you ask. “What did he say?” Bile rises in your throat and your hands begin to shake, but you repeat the question. “ _What did he say?”_

Kili sighs, shoulders sagging. “He disapproves.” The young dwarf finally answered. “And he won’t give us his blessing.”

You frown at his back as he walks over to the balcony and leans on the balustrade, gazing out at the scenery spread before him. You walk up behind him, hugging him from behind, silent tears sliding down your face. Not a happy end. Never a happy end. Not for you, nor for him.

“But it doesn’t matter, does it?” Kili suddenly sounds hopeful. “We’ll get married without his blessing. Leave Erebor, go to Ered Luin, the Iron Hills, anywhere.”  
“You don’t really mean that, do you.” You whisper against his strong neck. “Leave your brother behind, your mother, your uncle, your home.”

“I do.” Kili whispers. “I’d be ready to do it, for you.”  
“No.” You answer, a sob rising in your throat. “I don’t want you to do it. Not for me, not for anyone. Please, Kili. We can’t disobey his majesty’s orders. We can’t do this. Our story ends here.”

It’s painful, but you know that it’s the safest way, the best way. To separate now, to make sure both of you know it’s over.

“We can’t disobey the king’s orders.” You murmur again, like a mantra. “We can’t, we can’t, we can’t.”

“I wish you would stop _calling_ them that!” he suddenly cries out, pulling himself free and turning towards you angrily. You frown, confused. “What?”  
“The Crown Prince, his majesty, mylord prince… _titles_.”  
“But… they’re royalty!”

“They’re my family! Do you know how… snooty and aloof I feel when you use their titles like that?”  
“But you are!” You protest, grabbing his arm. He stares at you incredulously. “What? Snooty and aloof?”

“No!” You notice what you said and, despite yourself, break out into a fit of giggles. “You’re above me, Kili. Way above me. I… I don’t even know how all of… this… happened!”  You indicate the ring still clutched in his hand, the courtship braid behind his ear. You look to his chocolate eyes, expecting to see happy warmth in them as always, to have him gather you into his arms and kiss the top of your head. Instead you only find that dangerous coldness you have often seen in Thorin’s glare.

“Kili?” You ask as he wrenches himself free from your grasp. “Kili, please, what have I done wrong?” You spin him around to face you and for a moment, intense pain flickers in his eyes, but it is quickly obscured, and for a gut-lurching moment you see his other face, the prince, the warrior.

“Everything.” He says coldly before tearing himself free. Throwing the ring upon the ground, he walks backwards towards the door. “Making me so happy and letting it all be torn away because of what my uncle thinks. Giving me peace and then opening old wounds. Giving me love and then taking it away from me.” Tears gather in his eyes, and he quickly turns around and runs, and you are left standing by the balcony, over a swaying field of flowers, clutching the bead he braided into your hair and feeling as if your heart is being torn from your chest.

 

You’ve managed to live without Kili before, you tell yourself. You can manage to live without him now. But, Mahal, it’s difficult. Now that you’ve known different, you are unwilling to go back to life on your own. Life without Kili’s steadfast, boyish grin, his messy brown hair, his warm eyes, his slender hands. It all seems so dull and colorless now.

Not even your work offers any joy. Even when Thorin moves your chair up to about the middle of the table, you feel but a little jolt of pride, no more. Kili’s cold, unfeeling eyes only serve to quench even that small satisfaction. He can be just as cold and cruel as Thorin if need be.

You decide to hide your feelings as well, putting on a solid mask once outside your chambers. As soon as the door is closed, you let yourself scream and cry and throw things, but once outside, you are the very picture of efficient coolness.

As for the King under the Mountain, he doesn’t even seem to have noticed the dispute between the two of you, except for a smug smile when Kili decided to stoically ignore you as you left the meeting together. That had been one of your last attempts to make things alright with Kili. The evening after your fight, you had spent almost the entire night just waiting outside his door, until Fili had come out and gently escorted you back to your bed.

Fili seemed to be the only person who was truly upset for the two of you. He tried to be some sort of emissary, but both of you were too proud to listen to him.

Once you went for a walk outside the mountain, trying to calm yourself down, but it wasn’t the same without Kili, and as you walked up to the guardtower and memories of your first, accidental kiss overcame you, you had to sit down for a moment before stumbling back down towards the gates.

Kili doesn’t appear at meetings half as often as he used to, but when he does, you keep your face averted, glaring at your papers or stubbornly looking at the other council members, anywhere but at Thorin or Kili.

You’re... angry, actually, at how he sprung it on you and just expected you to be okay with it. You’re angry at how he’s avoiding you now, and you’re angry at how he acts as if it were all your fault. And most of all you’re angry at yourself for thinking it is.

But the more you think about it, the more you realize that you still love him, still want to be with him. That you wouldn’t think the way you are if it weren’t for the feelings you still have for him. He may be a proud, stupid, misunderstanding, rash idiot, but you miss him all the same, with all his faults and flaws.

 

Almost three weeks after your fight, as you get out of bed in the morning and tiredly grope for your hair clip, you feel the two betrothal beads in your hand, those beads Kili braided into your hair such a seemingly long time ago.

You hold them up before your eyes, inspecting them again closely. He has engraved tiny flowers in the beads, with stars above them. The tiny sapphires form both stars and the center of the flowers. They are beautiful, and they must have taken him a long, long time. He had probably started working on them before you even left for Mirkwood. Had he been so sure of winning you or had he only had such high hopes? Or would he have given them to you even if you had declined his approaches?

No matter the case, the beads were clearly made with all the love the young dwarf could pour into his work. They were the same fine craftsmanship of the beads Fili wore. You smiled as you realized that the brothers had probably made each other the beads, and that they had most likely braided each other’s hair to boot. If you knew them right, the morning tradition was probably accompanied by constant jokes and jibes why the other didn’t have a wife to do it for him.

You bite your lip as you remember that day he had put them in for you, and the dispute that followed. You had even said your vows by then, were officially betrothed. You’d probably never get to see that wedding. You would never marry, ever. Dwarrow do not give their hearts easily, choosing one or none.

Kili would probably have to marry some princess from another kingdom, produce heirs and hopefully be reasonably happy with her. You feel a cold stab of pain as you thought of seeing him with another dwarrowdam.

Perhaps you will heal, with time. You are sure that you will find happiness again, consolation in other things. Perhaps you and Kili will be friends one day. You can live without him, you can be happy without him. But you will never be able to stop loving him, no matter what he does.

As you look down at the beads in your palm, you decide.

 

You are there early, one of the first. You take a deep breath and smile at Balin before settling your papers down before your place, about halfway up the table. Your hair is carefully braided back, where it falls down to your shoulders in a loose plait. Two small plaits to both sides of your temple are secured with Kili’s beads. You let out a shuddering breath before lowering yourself into your chair slowly.

“You alright, lass?” Balin asks concernedly. You smile and nod. “Yes, thank you, Mister Balin.”

“Good. You just seem a bit faint.” Balin gives you a kindly smile and you wave off his concerns with a chuckle. “It’s nothing.”

“Tell me, lass, are you betrothed?” Balin frowns, pointing at your beads. You consider shortly how to answer that question. “Yes, but… I don’t want to tell you with whom at the moment.”

“Ah.” Balin nods. “Shame. Prince Kili likes you a lot. I think he was working up the courage to tell you. You’ve quite a friendship, haven’t you?”

You nod, wetting your lips nervously. “Yes… we… we’ve had a huge argument, though.”

“Oh.” Balin sounds truly upset, ignoring the other council members who are starting to arrive.

“Not to worry, lass. You’ll find a way, the two of you. Kili isn’t the person to bend easily, but he isn’t the kind of person to ruin a friendship for pride’s sake.”

“I know.” You reply quietly. _At least I hope I do._ You add to yourself.

“Anyway,” Balin closes as Thorin, Fili and Kili stride in together as always. “Congratulations.”

“Thank you.” You smile, but your eyes are on Kili, to see his reaction as he catches sight of your beads.

He seems surprised at first, then a small, relieved smile flickers across his face before anger obscures it. You try not to seem too smug. He was _relieved._ He still cares. You can hardly concentrate on Thorin’s words for joy.  _He still cares._

 

As you leave the council, you can hear Kili excusing himself behind you. You can’t help but feel a little thrill of excitement before you manage to get yourself under control. You can hear his footsteps behind you, soft leather on stone.

As you branch into the corridor leading to your chambers and Kili’s footsteps still don’t vanish in the distance, you can’t help but add a little spring to your step. He wouldn’t have any business in this part of the mountain except to talk to you. You hug your papers to your chest, fear and excitement fighting for your attention.

You stop before your door and turn around towards Kili. The young prince walks a few small steps before stopping, gazing at you proudly. You bow your head slightly, as if the two of you have never had any history. “Prince Kili.”

“Mylady.” His tone is coolly polite. You look at him for a long time as he drinks in your sight. He’s wearing a deep blue tunic, soft boots those you know are absolutely useless in his branch of work. The circlet around his head seems much too princely, too prim and proper, now that you know him, as does the velvety cloak around his shoulders.

Without even thinking about it, you walk the rest of the distance towards him and reach up to take the circlet from his head. He looks at you with a strange mixture of anger and surprise and longing. You settle down on your feet again and stare up at him challengingly. Fury flickers across his face and he takes you by the shoulders, driving you against the wall and pinning you there. You know immediately that he’s being gentle with you. Doubtless he has enough strength to almost break your spine, or at least leave bruises where he’s gripping your shoulders, but he’s holding you only tight enough that you can’t easily escape.

“Take them out.” He snarls. “Take them out!”

“No!” You reply stubbornly, but you don’t try to fight yourself free. “I still love you, Kili. I still want to keep our vows, still want to live out the rest of my life with you.”

Kili splutters indignantly. “You were the one who didn’t want to pull this through because of what Thorin thinks!”

“Kili, put yourself in my position! Thorin is the king! With one order, one harsh word, he can take everything away from me! Besides, Thorin is your family, he fills in for your father. And what did your _adam_ always tell you?” You give a small grin despite yourself. “Always respect your elders and…”

“Don’t.” Kili holds up a hand and then rubs it over his face tiredly. “Just don’t. Don’t say betters, because they aren’t. They aren’t better. They’re just like us.”

“I know.” You reply. “I see that now. Because you, you’re the only one who matters. And if you still want me, want this, I… I’m ready to pull it through. With or without Thorin’s blessing.”

Instead of an answer, Kili leans forward and kisses you. At first, you’re too surprised to react, but as he doesn’t stop, you begin to kiss him back, hands fisting in the front of his tunic, mouth opening up to him carefully, and it’s glorious, you had no idea until now how much you’ve missed him, his lips soft on yours, his musky scent all around you, his long-fingered hands on your jaw, shoulders, waist, hips.

For a long time, the two of you trade kiss after kiss, sometimes gentle, sometimes desperate, sometimes giggling into it, until Kili breaks away to lean his forehead against yours, hands skimming up and down your arms.

“Let’s tell Thorin. Let’s do it. Right now, before I forget again how lucky I am to have you.”

“Yes.” You agree, settling his circlet upon his head again and tugging his tunic straight without your eyes leaving his. “Now.”

 

“I wish to speak with my uncle.” Kili orders the guard. “I don’t care if he’s busy, I need to see him, _now_.”

“My prince.” The dwarf bows and opens the huge doors a crack to slip through. A moment later, he comes out again, accompanied by Dwalin.

“Kili?” the huge dwarf asks. “Thorin doesn’t appreciate it, you just coming by and demanding to see him. What in Mahal’s name…? Ah.” Dwalin catches sight of the betrothal beads you braided into Kili’s hair before the two of you went to speak to the king. The gruff dwarf smiles, a truly fearsome sight. “About time.”

And with that he steps away from the door to let the two of you enter.

Kili takes your hands and leads them up to his mouth, pressing gentle kisses to the back. “Alright?” he asks. You nod, letting out a shuddering breath. “I’m ready.”

Kili grins. “Let us go and face the dragon!” he proclaims dramatically, leading you through the door and into the throne room.

Thorin sits in the throne like a brooding shadow, the light form the arkenstone reflecting in the dark jewels of his crown. Fili stands by his side as always, as Thorin must have stood by Thror’s.

Kili takes your hand, probably as much for his own comfort as for yours. You can practically feel Thorin’s stare darken as he catches the gesture.

“Uncle.” Kili inclines your head, and you bow. Dwarrowdams do not believe in curtsying.

“Kili.” Thorin’s voice is dark and velvety as the midnight sky. “What is the meaning of this?”

Kili wets his lips nervously. “Uncle, I would ask you again to give us your blessing. She is my intended One and I am hers.”

“No.” Thorin declares without hesitation. “You are an heir to the line of Durìn. You shall marry as I see fit. You shall not take one of the common folk.”

Anger broils in your insides at Thorin’s contemptuous words. Kili squeezes your hand, knowing exactly what you are thinking, and continues speaking. You are impressed by how calm and collected he is.

“You cannot force me to say my vows, uncle.”

“I can disinherit you.”

“Please.” Kili waves his hand in a ‘go-ahead’ gesture. “Do. I would be only too pleased to be released from my obligations so I can marry the girl I love.”

“Kili, do you think we have ever managed to keep our power through love? If you marry, it shall be by the laws of politics.”

“Why do you not marry then, uncle?” Kili retorts. The temperature in the room seems to drop by several degrees as Thorin’s icy blue eyes alight on Kili. “That is none of your concern, _nephew.”_

Kili frowns and opens his mouth to argue, but you jab him in the ribs in warning. You have the feeling that it might not be the wisest course of action. Thorin doesn’t even seem to notice.

“Go now, Kili. Forget your foolish dreams. Forget love. Forget her.”

Now it is Kili’s turn to hold you back with a warning poke to the ribs. You fume in silence as Kili continues to plead your case, ignoring Thorin’s continued dismissals.

“ENOUGH!” Thorin finally roars. Kili shrinks back. “I will speak no more of this matter.” Thorin settles down in his throne again. The girl shall be sent back to the Iron Hills as soon as circumstances allow.”  
“No!” Kili yells, and you can’t hold yourself back either. “Your majesty, you can’t do that!” A thousand ruder ways of saying the same thing flood your brain, but you manage to remember your manners.

Suddenly, Fili purposefully walks down to where you stand with Kili, both glaring at the king rebelliously. The blonde prince stands by your side proudly, one hand reaching out to squeeze Kili’s arms.

“Uncle, Kili doesn’t have to produce heirs. I do. Of all six dwarf-lords, only three have daughters, one of them is married. You have Daìn well on your side thanks to trade and peace agreements that _this_ young dwarrowdam has so cleverly set up. I will marry the daughter of the Lord of Ered Luin. We have nothing to fear. Let Kili marry in love and I will marry in politics.”

Thorin snorted. “And why should I expect you to not come and want to marry a dwarrowdam out of the common folk because you claim she is your “One”?”

“Because my One is lost to me.” Fili replies, voice breaking only slightly. “Please, uncle. Mylady is all you could wish for in a wife for your nephew. And she will make Kili very, very happy.”

Thorin considers for a long moment. Fili’s closing words seem to be chasing each other around in his skull: _She will make Kili very, very happy._

“Very well.” Thorin sighs. “But only if you promise me on thing.”

“Yes?” the wariness in Kili’s voice is obvious.

“Be happy with each other. And give me lots of little dwarrow.”

Kili smiles. “To teach in the art of being majestic?” he teases. Thorin chuckles, and you are surprised to find what a nice smile he has.

“To teach in the art of being more serious and responsible than you.”

 

“Why did you do that?” Kili turns on Fili as soon as they are out the door. “You… you idiot! If I wanted you to sacrifice your happiness for mine, I would have told you! You shouldn’t have done it. Your One _isn’t_ lost to you.”

“She is now.” Fili smiles sadly. Tears prick your eyes as he gathers the two of you in a hug. “It wouldn’t have worked anyway.” He murmurs into Kili’s hair, trying to sound confident. But the wetness in your hair belies his words. “Be happy, _nadad… namad.”_

Namad. Sister. For the first time, you realize what Thorin’s decision and Fili’s sacrifice mean. You clutch Kili’s hand tightly across Fili’s back. It looks like you two are going to get a happy end after all.

 

Kili looks at you in your beautiful wedding dress, at the excitement clear on your face. Your cheeks are flushed, your breathing fast. His hand reaches for yours and he gives it a reassuring squeeze.

“You always like this?” he asks, still in that husky, slightly breathless voice as if he can’t believe that this is actually happening. You smile as you recall the first time you said those words to him, so long ago, so far away.

“Yes.” You reply, leaning forward and kissing him. “Always.”


End file.
